


don't blink

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Fluff, KageHina - Freeform, Like brace yourself, M/M, Mild Feels, Smut, Suicide, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:43:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His big fucking doe-like eyes are like bullets in his chest and he's never hurt so bad in his entire life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't blink

**Author's Note:**

> oof my brother died that sucks

His skin was the softest thing he'd ever felt in his entire God damn life, his breath shuddery, moaning his name like a fucking mantra as he sank into the deepest part of him, gripping those slender hips like a last life line, face shiny with perspiration. If Kageyama tilts his head, he swears that the shine on Hinata's chest literally spells  _intense,_ the key word to describe any encounter he'd ever had with the idiot decoy (the sun is his sky). He's running his fingers everywhere, over every bare inch of pale skin, over the knobs of his spine and the firm stomach beneath his palm as he slips his touch up, crawling over erect pink buds, all the way to his face. He traces those perfectly O'd open lips, flushed rosy, cups the blushing, round cheek and lays a kiss upon it as he pulls out until only his tip is still left within the heated tightness before snapping his hips, engulfing his hard-on in the small teen's perfect ass again. He can't help but hang onto every sound that's escaping him and every murmur of his name before he sinks his teeth into that adorable bottom lip of his, rolling his hips to meet his thrusts.

His small hands are gripping the crumbled sheets above his head, trembling as he fucks him - never, ever, not even in a heated game of Volleyball have they ever simultaneously felt at such a precious high, in which both of their both passionate sides are exposed, in which the beautiful clashing of their personality is so spectacular that it could bring an angel to its knees, none of those moments compare to the extremity's that the two feel when they're conjoined most intimately. His brown eyes are misted over in such a fashion that it makes Kageyama's mouth water with desire, his skin the most appetizing thing he's ever had the pleasure of witnessing up close. The swift movement of his jaw and mouth as he forms words should be a reason to model because it's the most exquisite thing that he's ever seen, and no mere model could ever mirror that level of beauty.

"Y-Yama," Hinata's stuttering as the taller of the two screws him into the plush bed beneath him, the springs groaning their disapproval and the bed post slamming against the wall from the force of it all. "Love i-it when you f.. fill me up." He gasps and shifts so that he's gripping the headboard; he presses his knees to his chest, his partner spreads the creamy limps and sinks deeper into him, impossibly close. "Make me c-cum over and o-over, 'till I can barely think," The orange-haired spiker releases a particularly loud moan, signaling how close he is. "Hit my s-sweet spot again 'n again.. mark me all over and make me yours." And in the last moments before he orgasms, he sits up and yanks the dominating raven-haired teen down by the silk locks, weaving his fingers tight into them, so that their mouths slot together in a series of clacking teeth and tongues battling brutally for dominance over the others warm, wet cavern. 

White jets of cum spurt across Hinata's less-than-filled-out chest and clenched abs, rendering him panting and spent. No more than a few seconds later, Kageyama is pushed over the edge and he spills into his lovers tight hole, with a choked moan breaking from his chest, blood pumping past his ears and whirring in his head, bones tingling and muscles burning. He leans his forehead against the pale junction where neck meets shoulder, leaving small indention's from where he'd sunk his teeth into the milky skin, reveling in the way he writhed and cursed beneath him as the flesh gave out under his bite and retreated inwards.

Hinata plays with his hair, twisting it around his fingers, not saying a word despite how uncomfortable it must feel right now, as the semen dries on his stomach, Kageyama's soft dick still inside him, with the white liquid slowly slipping out around it.

"Yama.." He whispers, his voice quieter and more at peace than Kageyama has ever heard it before. "I need you to do something for me, Yama.." When he looks up, he catches sight of the familiar content smile, the small dimples showing above all.

"What is it, Hinata?" He mumbles, lifting his head up slightly.

"Please.." He grins from ear to ear. "Don't be late for work."

In a series of gasping breaths and sweat dripping off his chin, he shoots off his bed as if it caught fire. He slams his hand down over his heart and feels the erratic thrum beneath his palm, eyes wide as saucers, mouth a gap with small curses fluttering out. The air is hot and moist, even more so as he breathes his morning breath into the stuffy, humid room. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and darts a look at his alarm clock. It reads 4:38 A.M. He growls an insult at his own stupid brain for conjugating a dream so ridiculous that his body had to yank him out of that mess at four in the damn morning. He pulls off his shirt that's sticking to his sweaty skin uncomfortably. He grunts in utter misery when he finds his boxers in a similar situation, though they're sticking to his thighs and his junk with something a little more repulsing.

With heavy, tired limps, he pulls those off as well, grimacing at the small, wet noise they make when he peels them off his skin. It weirdly hasn't dried yet, so he wipes the cum off his hot skin with his smelly sleep shirt and pulls on another pair of boxers. He sighs as he pulls open his curtains and opens up the window, breathing in the crisp August air as it sweeps in through the opening.

"Hinata," The name is a menace on his tongue, but it's also a welcome presence that makes his heart and soul ache, chest tighten with sorrow. He glances at the picture tacked to the cork board above his desk and feels the pull of tears just behind his eyes.

His big fucking doe-like eyes are like bullets in his chest and he's never hurt so bad in his entire life. His smile brings the worst agony he's ever felt, and every memory is like a needle stuck right through his heart. Every memorial video that he watches, created by Tanaka or Asahi or Sugawara or any of those motherfuckers who don't get the desperate sting in his soul the way he himself does, is like a lost game of Volleyball. He didn't cry at the funeral and he won't cry now. With tears on the verge of spilling, he riffles through his drawer, finding the object of desire and pressing the cold against his palm.

He never got those moments of 'I love you' and 'Let's do it' he never got those moments because of his cowardice and an incurable disease that stole his love away. Because he blinked too much and missed the perfect moment to press their lips together and feel at long last the experience he's waited for ever since he noticed his truly spectacular eyes, and when his gaze ventured downwards, his fine ass. Because he blinked too much and lost the rest of Hinata's life that they were supposed to live locked in each other's arms, crying as Hinata told him about the tumor in his brain. Because he blinked too much and lost focus of what his heart wanted and followed his stupid fucking brain that Hinata thought was truly genius.

Because he was watching a horror film by himself, being a social retard, eating a bowl of popcorn, blinking when Hinata's monitor went silent and his heart went still, those chocolate orbs once full of life, fading right out of existence. And he wants to scream to the world that they've lost a fucking angel, but he is stuck in a numb stupor in which it is only Kageyama Tobio and the grave where an empty shell of his rising sun lies, buried and hollowed to the core.

He presses the barrel to his forehead, presses the picture frame to his heart. He takes a deep inhale in, smiles at the ceiling. He presses his chapped, but still kind of moist, lips to the picture of a certain orange haired fucker, then lays in back down on his chest. He keeps his eyes wide open, because he doesn't want to miss anything else from blinking.

 

"See you in another life, you annoying bastard you."

Those are the last words he reels from those lips before the blood spatters and he is frozen in time. 


End file.
